Kiss Me Goodbye
by Nekkun
Summary: I’m just using my brother to ward off my own loneliness. Does he know that? He has to, he’s not stupid...


"Good morning, brother."

I look up from my book. Vincent stands before me. Only one of his eyes matches his golden hair. The other is crimson. A color that I've come to love and hate in equal parts. He takes my silence as permission and joins me on the couch. He sits just close enough for our thighs to brush together. A smile is on his lips but he stares straight ahead without looking at me. I close my book. It's not like I was reading it anyway. I want him to leave me alone, but I can't say that. This is the Nightray mansion; we both live here.

Besides, I just slept with him last night.

Just thinking about it makes me crave a cigarette. He always falls asleep first. Of course he can relax, because he truly likes it. The happiest I ever see him is when we're together having our little nightly trysts. The sheets always end up tangled around my body after. I lie there, soaked in sweat, as he cuddles next to me. My heart never seems to stop pounding. From fear or pleasure, I'm still not sure. But all I know is that this can't happen again. No matter how much Vincent begs me to. Because, no matter how you look at it, sleeping with your brother isn't something to be proud of.

Maybe doing it one time could be excusable. Just an experiment or a terrible mistake.

But this thing between us has been going on since I turned twenty four.

A whole month of him whispering in my ear. Of his lips on mine.

Every time we finish, I just look at the ceiling and pray for Oz to come back soon.

It's already been ten years.

My hope is fading fast.

Then again, I've probably already given up. Why else would I surrender to him?

"I sent Echo away on an errand," he says. "Let's spend the whole day together."

The carefully planned rejection speech disappears from my mind. I stare at him. His smile grows bigger. What the hell, does he think I'll want to celebrate? He told me at the very beginning that this would only be casual. No strings attached. And like the lonely idiot I was, I accepted his offer. Screwing around in the dark is one thing. But now he wants us to morph into some grotesque couple. I dig my nails into the palm of my left hand. God, I need to get away from him. I feel like I'm suffocating.

He takes my left hand in both of his. "What's the matter, Gil?"

"I...I can't..." His hands are always so cold. "You and me, we're..."

"Brothers?" He laughs lightly. "Don't tell me your complex about that has returned."

"It's disgusting," I say. "Why do you want more from me? I already let you—"

My face burns and for the life of me, I can't finish that sentence.

He raises an eyebrow. "_Let_ me? You make it sound like I forced you into this. And that isn't true at all." He pats my hand in some movement that's supposed to comfort me, but I feel numb. "This has always been a choice you've made."

"No, I never wanted to!"

"Lying isn't your greatest strength."

I tear out of his grasp. "It was your idea. You wouldn't leave me alone!"

"Really, now you're confused." He sounds amused. "You kissed me first, remember?"

"You spiked my drink, damn it. I wouldn't have alcohol when I'm around you."

"What are you talking about? I never—"

"You did," I insist, but my voice is weak.

Because even if he had drugged me, if I hadn't _wanted_ to, I wouldn't have kissed him.

Alcohol only loosens the inhibitions that already exist within a person.

It can't control their mind or manipulate them against their will.

Horror floods through my veins as I realize I'm just as twisted as he is.

He pulls me into an embrace. I don't make any move to resist. This shouldn't feel as familiar as it does. We're brothers. But even as my rational mind screams at me to get up and leave, I don't. Instead, I grip the fabric of his shirt in my fists and press my face into his chest. I'm pretty sure I won't cry. Only alcohol triggers tears now. I've gotten pretty good at suppressing my cowardly nature after all these years. But just in case, hiding my face from Vincent, who can read me better than anyone, is a good idea.

"Gil, you're too hard on yourself."

"Don't call me that," I snap into his shirt. "Only one person can use that name."

He sighs. "You always say that. I never know who you're talking about."

Oz pops into my mind, surrounded by a bright light. I never know if the light's a good sign or a bad one. Whether it's in dreams or nightmares, Oz smiles at me, growing brighter and brighter before vanishing. But ever since I've been spending my nights with Vincent, these images of him, of my master, have almost faded away completely.

Seeing his face now seems like a warning, but I brush it off.

If Oz had managed to find a way to escape the Abyss, he'd already be here.

Right?

"Hey." Might as well say it before my loyalty resurfaces. "Never mind that."

"Hmm?"

I almost have a change of heart yet again. Damn it. Vincent seems to lose track of the conversation whenever he's running his fingers through my hair like he is now. Oz wouldn't mind letting someone else call me that. It's my own selfishness that wants to keep that name special between the two of us.

But he's not here with me anymore, no matter how much I want him to be.

I manage to say it, despite the queasy feeling in my stomach.

"You can call me Gil if you want."

"Really? How sweet, but what about your mysterious friend?"

I might allow Vincent to call me by Oz's nickname, but that doesn't mean I'll share anything else about him with my brother. Keeping my memories of my master private and close to my heart is all I can do while I wait for him to return. And he will, because the person that I know best is Oz Vessalius.

Until then...

I distract Vincent by raising my face to his. "Never mind that."

He takes the bait and the next thing I know is that his tongue's in my mouth.

Vincent's always so eager to touch me. He has a lot more techniques involving lips and various other things than I do. I don't want to know where he learned them from. He swears that I'm the only person he's ever loved. At least I get some experience out of this whole mess in addition to the guilt.

I'm just using my brother to ward off my own loneliness.

Does he know that? He has to, he's not stupid.

Break would be proud.

He pulls away, licking his lips.

"I love you, Gil."

There's no way I can answer, since he's not who I imagine saying that to me.

Instead, I begin to unbutton his shirt. Hopefully Echo won't be back from her excursion early.

Of course, I wasn't aware of it then, but those were our final moments together.

Because the next day, he came back.

I didn't need my brother anymore. I pushed away thoughts of him needing me.

And I ran towards the light.

* * *

_A/N: One-shot! No lemon, cause I'm devious like that. ;D And my inner Oz/Gil fangirl won't allow that to happen. The most I can do is imply stuff of a sexual nature. Hope you enjoyed this angsty piece! Gil's kind of a bastard, isn't he? Heh. I haven't been writing much lately because I'm lazy. *smacks self into being productive* Thanks for reading, and reviewing if you decide to!_


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